


In a Photograph

by PitaVegeta1



Category: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)
Genre: M/M, One Shot, One-Sided Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-05
Updated: 2019-04-05
Packaged: 2019-11-18 07:54:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 562
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18116540
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PitaVegeta1/pseuds/PitaVegeta1
Summary: "...of all the wild creatures he has captured on film..."





	In a Photograph

**Author's Note:**

> RDR2 characters are not mine.

    It was as if someone had dropped a dirty lens before his eyes, the city grey and muggy, the air soupy with factory smog and trash; a far cry from the bright and crisp world of New Hanover. City sounds from the street below filtering in closed windows; Albert quickly opened them as his hovel of an apartment had become stale in his long absence. He took his time unpacking, his camera equipment placed with care on his desk. Dirty laundry bundled to be washed at a later date, but first Albert wished to review his photos.  
  
    Months of roughing it across the plains of New Hanover, biting insects and dangerous beasts, however Albert would not trade one moment. He gazed at the photographs of the quick coyotes, who almost gotten away with his provisions. The elusive wolves, that once they made their presence known did not hesitant to display their teeth.  The majestic mustangs as they race across the grasslands. Such beauty still existed and Albert had been able to capture a fragment of it.  
  
    Then him, Arthur Morgan; of all the wild creatures he has captured on film, he was the most arresting; the most untamed. Without him Albert knew he would have been long dead; skin freckled and weathered from the sun and wind. Blue eyes gleamng, telling of a cunning mind. His hands callused from the reins of his beloved horse, chalked with gunpowder and earth. He moved with the grace of the wolves, calculated yet flowing with the land. Elusive as the eagle unbind by the laws. His voice growling yet warm, rich from tobacco and rock gut whiskey.  
  
    Albert stared at the image taking in each detail around the man before zeroing in on him. Albert knew he would never meet Arthur Morgan again, knew he would never meet anyone like him. He hope the man forever captured in this picture remained free, remained a testament of what the west embodied.

*30 years later*

    Anna Patrick sans Mason smiled as her children raced around the near empty house, slipping between stacked boxes in their version of hide and seek. She turned her gaze to the wall of photos, the ones her father held dear. Pictures of family and friends through the years, wild animals that Anna remember her father telling her about along with rich stories of a place so far that she sometimes believe it to be fiction. She carefully wrapped each in newspaper then laid them into a box mark "Dad's Photographs'. She would miss her father but was happy that her children had the chance to know him, to hear his stories.

   Pausing she studied the picture in her hand, she recalled asking her father about the man repeatedly as the tales featuring him were so exciting. An actual gunslinger who had saved her father on numerous occasions, from wrestling alligators to pulling her father from certain death; Arthur Morgan was a man her father never shied from speaking about and as she regarded his image she could understand why. He was certainly handsome in a rugged way, a far cry from her husband a clean cut banker; but Mr. Morgan had a charm that she could see had been forever captured. Smiling she carefully wrapped the photograph and placed within the box she could almost hear her father's voice.

"Farewell Mr. Morgan."

 


End file.
